Chapter 3 – Synchronicity
When I thought about it later, I put it down to synchronicity; I had no idea that I would pick a general store where the sales assistant was so darn adept at reading my behavior. Perhaps I was behaving less discretely than I should have, but then there again, who would ever have imagined that the Stedstor General Dealer would be a fertile meeting ground for a dominatrix-in-waiting?
I didn’t quite know how to respond. The sales assistants question shattered my day-dream, dragged me back to a very embarrassing reality.
“Did you find everything you are looking for? Do you need me to cut a length of that chain for you?”
I fell back to my default answer: “I am fine thanks; I am just looking.”
She seemed to eye me for a moment longer than I felt comfortable. I felt the color rushing to my cheeks in a way that even overpowered the color from my self-imposed arousal.
The sales assistant was perhaps thirty five or forty years old, similar in age to me. She had the body of someone who takes aerobics very seriously; she was trim without being lean, her sandy colored hair was cut in a slightly severe bob. Her complexion was darkish for someone who had fair hair; it was healthy and fresh with a lovely matt finish; whether this was due to well applied foundation or a healthy lifestyle, I couldn’t really tell.
Her appearance was so wholesome and feminine, yet there was no doubt that she was not a wilting daisy. Her glasses were oval and feminine, her blue eyes were set off with beautifully blended bands of blue, aquamarine and grey eye-shadow; she seemed to be able to look straight into my own eyes – and then drill in even deeper to read my mind.
Despite the fact that we were both wearing jeans, our clothing style really set us apart. Her skinny cut jeans showed off her tight bottom, her well toned thighs and an athletic pair of calves; my designer jeans were high waisted and cut for show. Her utilitarian powder blue knit top clung to her gentle curves; my feminine blouse was white and lacy, blue ribbons chastely lacing the embroidered V. She wore white athletic shoes, comfortable and functional, built for speed and not for show; my high heeled sandals clicked on the floor as I followed her, now seeming too stylish for this general dealer shop.
Her hand reached up to the shelf and she picked off a pre-cut, shrunk-wrapped length of chain. I looked at the label: “3 meters, suitable for domestic use”.
“This should do you for starters!”
The sales assistant paused, gave me a long, hard stare as if sussing me out, using those blue eyes of hers to read my mind. I swear she was clairvoyant; she turned back to the shelf and picked up a few lengths of chain off-cuts that lay around.
“ Come, let me show you some carbineer clips, shackles and locks.”
She spun on her heels and walked away, confident that I would follow, already exhibiting her natural understanding of her own dominance and my submissive ways.
At the word ‘shackle’, I felt an instant flood down below; how well I had conditioned myself over my past few weeks of being a perv?
We passed through the aisles with me in tow, my heels clicking relentlessly on the hard, tiled floors. The chains that she carried were soon joined by a selection of padlocks, some small and some heavy; carbineer clips and shackles were dropped into a baggie and joined the pile.
I thought we were finished and heading to the checkout, when the Sales Assistant stopped suddenly at the kitchen goods section, reached up and added a couple of heavy, plastic clips to the pile of hardware in her hand.
“I think we will need these.”
The ‘we’ left me confused but before I had a chance to ask what she meant, the assistant had moved on, knowing from the click of my heels that I was not far behind. The Pets’ Section was near the till, and she reached up to take a heavy dog’s collar off the spike on which it hung. I was a bit confused, but assumed she was collecting items for a phoned in order.
“That should do us for now; come let’s go to the back.”
I was definitely very confused now and followed her to one of the two doors marked “Staff Only”. She might have been clairvoyant, but I am certainly not!